George Gordon Noel Byron

Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing read more

Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess,
The might--the majesty of Loveliness?

And nearer as they came, a genial savour
Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus.
Things which read more

And nearer as they came, a genial savour
Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus.
Things which in hungry mortals' eyes find favour.

Dead scandals form good subjects for dissection.

Dead scandals form good subjects for dissection.

So sweet the blush of bashfulness,
E'en pity scarce can wish it less!

So sweet the blush of bashfulness,
E'en pity scarce can wish it less!

It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale's high note is heard;
It is the read more

It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale's high note is heard;
It is the hour when lovers' vows
Seem sweet in every whispered word;
And gentle winds, and waters near,
Make music to the lonely ear.
Each flower the dews have lightly wet,
And in the sky the stars are met,
And on the wave is deeper blue,
And on the leaf a browner hue,
And in the heaven that clear obscure,
So softly dark, and darkly pure.
Which follows the decline of day,
As twilight melts beneath the moon away.